


The Seashell, Seagull, Gun Raid

by Amedia



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Silly, Surveillance, THRUSH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 18:29:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20856290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amedia/pseuds/Amedia
Summary: Between assignments, Napoleon and Illya come across a new Thrush surveillance device.





	The Seashell, Seagull, Gun Raid

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on my LiveJournal on April 30, 2006.
> 
> Response to a prompt for a _Man from U.N.C.L.E._ ficlet using the words _seashell, seagull, gun_.
> 
> I have to confess to cheating a little bit; I used "U.N.C.L.E. special" in place of "gun."
> 
> Also, this is definitely set during the third season.

"She sells seashells by the seashore," Illya repeated calmly, sounding puzzled.

"You didn't find that at all difficult to say?" Napoleon asked, surprised. They were walking through Central Park after a pleasant lunch; it was one of those quiet days when agents had a chance to nurse bruises and write up reports. Illya had spent the morning in the lab running tests on substances recently retrieved from a Thrush hideout; Napoleon had sat through several meetings.

"Not at all," Illya said. "You have to understand, Napoleon, most so-called tongue-twisters in English simply make me nostalgic for Russian. One of the first songs I learned was harder than that sentence, and it got faster and faster as it went along." He began humming.

_I had to get him started_, Napoleon thought ruefully. _If he started reciting Ukrainian nursery rhymes, I'm going to ask for a transfer_.

Suddenly a harsh, melancholy cry from overhead startled both agents. They looked up to see a white bird high in the air, gliding on wide, angled wings. "What is a seagull doing here?" Illya wondered aloud. Then he said, startled, "Napoleon!"

Napoleon had drawn his U.N.C.L.E. special, aimed carefully, and brought down the creature with a single shot. 

"Why did you shoot that seagull?" Illya demanded.

"That was not a seagull, my friend," said Napoleon, strolling over to investigate the feathered corpse. "It was a Thrush." Reaching the bird, he picked it up and turned it over. "Yes, as I thought. That was a SEAGULL."

"Seagull, thrush, seagull - having trouble making up your mind?"

Napoleon held out the object in his hand. His bullet had not only brought the thing down, but had popped open a sort of door on what should have been its underbelly, exposing a mass of wires and electrodes. "SEAGULL. Surveillance Equipment Augmentation Given Unrestricted Latitude and Longitude. It's a kind of long-distance video transmitter."

"I never heard of that," Illya said.

"That's what you get for refusing to leave the lab for this morning's briefing."

"The test was at a very sensitive moment," Illya pointed out. "Mr. Waverly understood that letting you fill me in later was a preferable option to the risk of blowing up the entire building."

"The entire building?" Napoleon quirked a dubious eyebrow. 

Illya held out his hand for the bird device and Napoleon handed it to him. Peering into its innards, Illya went on, "Yes, the entire building. To say nothing of the radioactive fallout that would contaminate the entire block, including..." he paused dramatically, "the tailor shop."

"Oh, well, can't let anything happen to the _tailor shop_," Napoleon conceded. He watched his partner take out a small tool from his pocket and poke around inside the circuitry. "You do know what you're doing, right?"

Illya pulled out his pen communicator, twisted it so that it emitted a continuous tone, and began carefully adjusting a dial inside the bird. "The device is essentially undamaged," he said without looking up. "I'm repairing it and synchronizing its transmitter with the U.N.C.L.E. receiver." He pocketed his pen and re-closed the door over the circuitry. He tapped the bird three times on one side, then once on the other, and it began whirring and clicking, its eyes emitting a faint glow. Illya tossed the bird into the air and it took off, flying high overhead and vanishing quickly from sight.

"Excellent idea," Napoleon said. 

Illya shrugged. "It seems to me that one good tern deserves another."


End file.
